


Gifts for Stylish Gits and Reckless Heroes

by MaesMora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Boys Kissing, Christmas, Did I Mention The Kissing?, Dirty Talk, Draco Malfoy is a Brat, Dry Humping, Fluff, Found Family, Gift Fic, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter is a Tease, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Rimming, Secret Santa, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, more kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesMora/pseuds/MaesMora
Summary: It's five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, and Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have been pining after each other for years while both trying to maintain the fiction among their friends that they are merely cordial at best. Hermione Granger-Weasley has had enough of their nonsense and hatches a plan to rig their yearly Secret Santa gift exchange so these two idiots have no choice but to confront their feelings head-on. Shenanigans ensue. In the best possible way, of course.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 38
Kudos: 550
Collections: A Very Drarry Secret Santa 2019





	Gifts for Stylish Gits and Reckless Heroes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [welpslytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/welpslytherin/gifts).



> First and foremost, I would like to thank the incomparable [triggerlil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerlil/pseuds/triggerlil) for moderating our lovely little exchange this year, and I apologize to her and my prompter for my heinous tardiness. Second, I was working with the generous prompts of fluff, pining!Draco, naughty stuff and a Secret Santa gift exchange. Special thanks to Lil for help brainstorming and for the name of Toussaint's shop in Diagon Alley. I had so much fun writing this, and I can only pray that you all enjoy it half as much as I enjoy giving it to you.

Draco was going to murder Hermione Granger-Weasley. This might not have come as a surprise to most of the people of either of their acquaintance back in their school days, but as neither of them were children anymore it was not, strictly speaking, in character any longer. Furthermore, as he now considered her one of his closest friends it was probably apparent to everyone, himself included, that this was merely a fit of pique on his part. Draco, however, felt rather justified seeing as she had just told him who he’d ‘randomly’ been assigned for their annual Secret Santa gift exchange amongst all of their friends. Harry _bloody_ Potter. If she hadn’t rigged the whole thing he’d eat his Corthays, and he _loved_ those shoes. So naturally she’d have to go.

“I am not shopping for _Potter_. You’ve lost your considerable mind if you imagine otherwise. Give me someone else. Anyone else. Hell, I’ll take the Weasel first.”

She leveled him with an imperturbable stare and arched one eyebrow in a fashion reminiscent of their former Transfiguration Professor and now Headmistress of Hogwarts Minerva McGonagall and answered in a reasonable tone that set his teeth further on edge.

“Honestly, Draco, I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this. It was random. Pansy and Ron were both there. And Harry’s easy to shop for, so you have nothing to complain about. You really shouldn’t have said, you know. It takes the fun out of things. Now stop whinging and take your envelope. I have to head back to the office.”

She thrust the envelope into his hands and patted his cheek like she might a recalcitrant child before heading to the fireplace and taking up a pinch of floo powder from the bowl on the mantle.

“And don’t call him Weasel, please. You know I don’t let him call you Ferret anymore, so play nicely. We’ll see you at pub night on Friday.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder when he grimaced but muttered an apology just as she tossed the powder into the flames and stated her destination as her office at the Ministry and vanished in a whoosh of green flames. 

Scowling at the offending envelope clutched in one fist, he slumped into his favorite armchair and heaved a sigh that was dangerously close to sounding petulant. It wasn’t that Draco still hated Potter. No, the problem was rather that he actually didn’t anymore. In fact he was, if anything, far too fond of the specky git for comfort, and how he was supposed to continue to hide this fact while maintaining his perfect record as the best gift-giver in their friend group was beyond him. It wouldn’t do to get something he knew Potter would hate just to spite him and perpetuate the charade of their boyhood rivalry. Draco’s pride simply wouldn’t allow it. Blast, he was going to have to go above and beyond this year. It was after all the Malfoy way.

~~~

Hermione swept into her office, murmuring a spell to rid herself of any lingering soot. She bit back a little shriek of surprise when she looked up to find the chair behind her desk occupied by her husband, who she was now considering throttling. Today was apparently a day for plotting the demise of one’s loved ones.

“Ronald Weasley, you startled me! What are you doing here? I thought you were having lunch with Harry? You _did_ give him the envelope I gave you, I hope?”

This last question was followed up by a rather pointed glare, and at his wife’s obvious displeasure, Ron stopped grinning and opted for doing damage control instead.

“Of course, ‘Mione. I made sure he took it, I swear! We just got cut short because Robards needed to see him about something or other.”

Hermione’s expression had begun to clear after the reassurance of the envelope’s delivery, but it quickly darkened again at the mention of the Head Auror. That man was always bothering Harry, pulling him for special missions or consulting with him on especially Dark cases, sometimes going so far as to ask him to intercede with the Minister, which always made Harry extremely uncomfortable, but she knew Harry had trouble saying no to people, particularly when they needed his help. She was becoming increasingly concerned about her friend being spread too thin, and she said as much now to Ron.

“As if he didn’t have enough on his plate! That’s the third time this week, and it’s only Tuesday! I’m about ready to march down there and give that man a piece of my mind! The nerve of him after everything Harry’s done for—” 

Ron stood up hastily and came around the desk, reaching out in a soothing gesture as he inched cautiously toward his incensed wife, cutting off her tirade in an attempt to distract her from storming down to his boss’s office. She was rather terrifying when she was angry and incredibly effective at getting her way. He didn’t like Robards’ chances if she decided to take him down a peg or two, and Ron rather liked his job and would prefer to keep it.

“Now Hermione, I’m sure Harry’s got it under control. I’ll keep an eye on him. You know I’ve got his back. How’d it go with Malfoy? Did he buy it?”

That last bit was a rather obvious ploy to redirect her attention, and she gave him a withering look to let him know that she saw right through him but had decided to answer him anyway.

“He’s suspicious, but what else is new? I threw him off by assuring him that Pansy oversaw the shuffle with us, but he knows he’s stuck with the draw either way. I told him he had nothing to complain about. I mean, it’s Harry. He loves whatever anyone gets him.”

Ron pulled her into a hug, which she settled into after a brief huff of indignation that he suspected was mostly for show. Grinning down at her, he squeezed her gently as he nodded in agreement.

“Even after all these years he still seems a bit surprised to get anything. It’s enough to break your heart, that is. Mum always sends him extra fudge, bless her. She about had kittens in second year, remember? When me and the twins told her those awful Muggles were starving him?”

Both their faces bore similar angry looks at the memory, but Ron shook his head and continued on.

“Anyway, Harry looked a bit panicked when he read his, but he didn’t give it away. Are you sure this is going to work, ‘Mione? I mean, you’re brilliant, so of course I trust you. But why is them getting each other a present going to make them pull their heads out their arses and get on with it? I don’t get it.”

She graced him with a fond look as she answered.

“Because they’re predictable. Draco won’t be able to resist showing off by getting something he knows Harry will love, and Harry’s always so thoughtful about gifts he’s bound to let something slip. He cares too much for it to go any other way, and when we do the big reveal they’ll be forced to acknowledge that they both like each other at least enough to get each other something so personal.”

Hermione pursed her lips in thought and shrugged before looking up to meet Ron’s gaze with a glitter of determination in her eyes.

“And if _that_ doesn’t work I’m going to lock them in a broom cupboard and let nature take its course. They’ve been dancing around each other for years, both too scared to make the first move. We had to do something before they drove us all mad.”

Ron let out a snort of laughter, and Hermione beamed up at him. They exchanged knowing looks before moving on to chatting briefly about their mornings together. It wasn’t often they got the chance to spend time together at work, so they savored the stolen moments that remained of their lunch breaks before promising to see each other at home and parting ways. Ron headed back to the DMLE, leaving Hermione to her stacks of paperwork. She was quickly climbing the ranks in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and had already made incredible inroads when it came to drafting and seeing to the enactment of policies in favor of the fair treatment of other sentient Magical Beings. She was going to be Minister one day. He just knew it, and he couldn’t be more proud of her if he tried.

~~~

Draco sighed heavily as he trudged through Diagon Alley, weaving his way through the crowds of people who were also out in force in preparation for the upcoming holiday. The occasional passer-by would shrink away before his robes could so much as brush them accidentally when they got a good look at his face. It had been years since the war, and he’d done his best to try and dredge the Malfoy name out of the mud his forebears (and his father in particular) had drug it through but even still there were those who looked upon him with nothing but contempt. He’d avoided Azkaban with the help of Harry’s testimony at his trial, managing to squeak by with a year of house arrest and community service. And oh how that had rankled back then. Being saved yet again by _Potter_.

His shoulders sagged a bit in relief as he made it to the shop he’d been heading for. It was one he frequented quite regularly, and he was relieved they were still willing to accept his custom. La Maison Sorcier was run by a forbidding older wizard who could’ve been anywhere from 40 to over 100 for all Draco could tell. The man hadn’t changed one whit in all the years the men of Draco’s family had been coming here for their suits, and at this point Draco seriously doubted he ever would. The man himself swept up from the back just as Draco was coming in and brushing a few errant flakes of snow from the shoulders of his cloak.

A tingle ran down Draco’s spine as he was greeted by a dark rumble, though the tone was as lush as velvet. Sebastien Toussaint could have given his former Potions professor a run for his money when it came to a voice that could by turns either beguile or cut like glass, but he was far easier on the eyes than Snape could’ve ever hoped to be. Draco shoved that thought aside viciously before nodding politely to the tailor and returning the polite greeting and launching into an explanation of why he was there and what he wanted. 

Toussaint gave him a calculating once-over and pursed his lips thoughtfully before nodding and gesturing for Draco to follow him. Moving deeper into the shop, they began to talk fabrics, cuts, and colors. Draco had been afraid that the man would refuse him at first since it wasn’t as if he could bring Harry in to be fitted properly, but thankfully that little dilemma had been rectified quite nicely by Hermione. Well, it had taken a bit of groveling on his part, but he was choosing not to dwell on that bit. She’d found this nifty spell that had taken Harry’s measurements with him being none the wiser while she was having tea with him one afternoon the week before, and Draco could’ve kissed her. He was that grateful. He would have been quite cross if he’d had to come up with a different idea for Harry’s present, but somehow he’d known that Hermione would save the day. She’d only been _a little_ smug about it, too.

He’d racked his brain for _days_ trying to come up with the perfect gift for Harry. Admittedly he’d wanted to dress the man for years. Harry’s clothing had improved marginally since their school days, but it had been downright _atrocious_ back then. That was not why he’d settled on a suit, however. No, he’d remembered how much Harry would always complain about formal wear whenever he had to go to a Ministry function or broke down and attended one of the countless charity galas that were always clamoring for the attendance of the Savior of the wizarding world, so naturally he decided that he’d simply introduce Harry to formal wear that was both functional and comfortable. The fact that he’d conveniently get to do so under the guise of their Secret Santa exchange was a boon he’d accepted now, but he was still going to complain the entire way through, of course.

He blinked and returned his attention to what Toussaint was saying about waistcoat options. Draco narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and nodded in agreement on the number of buttons but shook his head when the other man suggested a print. No, Harry wouldn’t fancy any frippery. Simple, elegant lines would do for him, and Draco said as much as they moved on to colors. Black, he thought. Maybe a touch of green here and there, just the tie and the pocket square, that would do nicely. Or perhaps a bow tie? The thought made Draco’s lips twitch at the corners as he bit back a smile. Oh how Harry would hate that. Yes, a bow tie would do nicely. He wanted Harry to like the gift, of course, but he wouldn’t be Draco Malfoy if he didn’t yank his old nemesis’ chain just a tad. The green would do that, too, but it served the dual purpose of setting off Harry’s eyes.

Draco had always loved Harry’s eyes, even back when they were still framed by those hideous round spectacles that took up half of his face. Thank Merlin Hermione had talked Harry into replacing them the year after the war. Now Harry’s glasses were sleek and nondescript, accentuating his features rather than overwhelming them. Draco would never admit it to his face, but he rather liked them. His thoughts were wandering again, and this time the tailor had noticed and was giving him a distinctly impatient look. Wincing, Draco admonished himself silently for mooning over someone he couldn’t possibly ever have and resolved to focus on the task at hand, not whom it was for. He was doing this to uphold his title of best gift giver, not win over Potter. He would have to remember to stop referring to him as Harry in his head. It would only make things harder in the long run.

Several hours and quite a number of sketches later Draco and Toussaint had settled on a design. After finalizing everything and settling his tab at the counter, Toussaint told him he could have it ready in a fortnight, which suited Draco perfectly. Donning his cloak, he nodded a polite farewell to the shop owner and braced himself for the trial of once again heading out to navigate through the holiday crowds. All he knew was the look on Potter’s face when he saw his gift better be worth all this trouble. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling a little as he pictured Harry with his mouth flopping open and shut like a fish. Yes, something like that would do quite nicely.

~~~

Harry groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair before gripping it and tugging slightly out of sheer frustration. When he let his hands fall to his sides and slumped back into his armchair in a graceless sprawl his hair was an even wilder tangle than usual. He’d been struggling with what to do about a gift for the Secret Santa exchange this year more so than any of the previous four they’d done in years past, and the reason was simple. He’d gotten Malfoy. Granted, they didn’t clash in quite the same way they had in school. If anything their previous sniping had mellowed into what he’d almost call playful banter if it were anyone else. Whenever one of their friends pointed this out (and it was usually Pansy or Blaise feeling the need to needle Malfoy for their own amusement), Malfoy would stiffen and that familiar sneer would fall back over his face like a mask. Harry hated it.

He liked it much better when Malfoy smiled, even if it was never voluntarily at Harry without that mask falling back into place as soon as he realized what he’d done. Harry wished he knew what the prat was hiding from. It’s not like anyone really expected them to be at each other’s throats any longer. Well.. nobody who mattered at least. He chewed his lip in thought. Okay, so maybe Malfoy’s parents. At least his father, but that bloody tosser was in Azkaban where he belonged. Narcissa was always perfectly cordial to Harry whenever he visited the Manor with everyone else, however. He rather suspected that had something to do with saving her son from a grisly death by fire, but hey, he’d take what he could get.

When Ron had given him the envelope, and he’d read Malfoy’s name on the slip of paper he’d found inside it Harry’s immediate response had been panic, but he’d squashed it down desperately in an attempt to waylay any sort of comment from Ron. He didn’t know how successful he’d been, but he hadn’t blurted out the name at the very least. Harry’s problem was that his rather unhealthy obsession with Draco from sixth year had only gone underground while he was dealing with all the madness of what should have been his seventh year at school, and then the Battle had happened, and..well. 

Once the dust had settled and he’d finally had a chance to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life he’d discovered that maybe the excitement of being on the run wasn’t half so intimidating as the daunting task of living in the aftermath. Headmistress McGonagall had offered all of them an eighth year at Hogwarts to complete their education, and while Hermione had jumped at the chance, Harry and Ron had both opted for an abbreviated course that allowed them to take their N.E.W.T.s and go straight into the Auror training program. 

And then there’d been Ginny and the way they’d left things at the end of sixth year before he’d gone off Horcrux hunting. Harry had felt paralyzed with guilt over the fact that while he’d missed her, it had been her friendship he’d missed and not so much the kissing or the fact that she’d told him she loved him. That part actually filled him with a sick sort of dread, and when she’d finally cornered him at the Burrow one day during the summer after the Battle he’d braced himself for the fallout.

But Ginny had surprised him by gently explaining that she’d moved on in the year they’d been apart, that so much had happened, and really, they were neither of them the people they’d been before the war. He’d assured her that he understood, that they’d always be friends, and that maybe it was for the best. He _hadn’t_ told her that lately when he closed his eyes it wasn’t red hair or soft curves that he imagined against him in intimate moments but sharper, more angular features, masculine hands on his skin, and sometimes..only sometimes, the briefest flashes of platinum hair and a challenging smirk.

Harry groaned at the memory and stood abruptly, shaking his head as if to free himself from the thought. That was how it had begun, brief flashes as he’d slowly come to realize that he was attracted to men as well as women, and while he’d tried to date here and there, as the years passed he’d never managed to fall into anything serious with either sex, as it happened. That fixation on Malfoy from sixth year had come creeping back into the forefront as their friend groups had begun to mesh, only now it held none of the suspicion of before. Now it was fascination (and dare he admit..fondness?) that forced his thoughts toward the man who used to be his boyhood nemesis. 

And so Harry was stuck. They weren’t enemies anymore, but Malfoy still kept him at arms-length, still called him _Potter_ with that maddeningly posh drawl of his that made Harry want to by turns smack him and snog him senseless. Unable to remain still for long, Harry took to pacing the length of his sitting room. At least Grimmauld Place wasn’t the same dreary dump it had been when it housed the Order of the Phoenix. Harry had made sure of that, renovating from top to bottom after he’d managed to talk Kreacher down and ease the crotchety old house elf into the idea one room at a time. It had helped that Harry let him keep a few of the family heirlooms that Kreacher had found it harder to part with and promised to save anything not too Dark or cursed (or ruined) in the Black family vault at Gringotts. 

So it was that he found himself expending his excess energy by pacing in his tastefully decorated sitting room, the decor courtesy of Pansy since she’d taken to interior design after school like a duck to water. He was having a hard time coming up with an idea of what to get Malfoy for Christmas. Harry desperately wanted him to like it, but what did you get a man who could (and frequently did) buy whatever his heart desired? He knew Malfoy’s taste in everything from clothing, to wine, to music was far superior to his own, so Harry was more than a little unnerved at this point. It’d have to be something unexpected. His head came up sharply as an idea coalesced in his mind. It was perfect, but it would also leave him exposed with nowhere to hide once they did the whole ‘revealing who got who’ bit of the exchange. Well, he hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing.

~~~

Draco stepped into La Maison Sorcier and swept his cloak off and draped it over his arm as he looked up at the sound of a greeting from the young woman who was manning the counter. His shoulders twitched in the beginning of a disappointed slump before he caught himself and gave her a polite nod in return. He’d been hoping Toussaint would be here when he came to pick up Harry’s gift because he’d been sure that the tailor would want to go over the finished product with him to be sure the design was satisfactory. Alright, and he might’ve also been looking forward to that voice like roughened velvet stroking across his senses and making his spine tingle if he were honest. He might’ve been stupidly pining after Potter, but he wasn’t deaf. Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, he addressed the shop employee politely.

“Good afternoon. I’m here to pick up a custom order under the name of Malfoy. I had set an appointment with Monsieur Toussaint to come by today. I do hope I haven’t mistaken the time..”

He allowed his voice to trail off, a hint of uncertainty slipping into his tone as he gave her his best harmless expression. He’d never met her on any of his previous visits to the shop, and he was hoping that she wasn’t the sort who’d as soon hex him as look at him. Thankfully she smiled at him instead and nodded as she made her reply.

“Mr. Malfoy, of course. Monsieur Toussaint is expecting you. He merely stepped into the back. He’ll be with you in a moment.”

Reassured, Draco stepped further into the shop and spent a few moments browsing idly. The sound of a door clicking shut caused him to look up. Eyes alighting on the impeccably dressed figure of Sebastien Toussaint himself, Draco allowed himself a small smile as he straightened from his perusal of a rack of trousers and moved toward the back as the tailor caught sight of him and nodded at him. That deep, rumbling voice rolled toward him pleasantly in greeting as he was waved toward the back half of the store.

“Monsieur Malfoy, this way if you please. I took the liberty of setting your purchase out for viewing. You will tell me what you think of my creation.”

The note of command in that last declaration was unmistakable, causing goosebumps to break out along Draco’s arms in a pleasant ripple. And as he came around the corner he saw that a mannequin had been outfitted in the suit he’d commissioned for Harry, from the silken black dress shirt down to the waistcoat, trousers, even the elegant green bow tie and pocket square were present, and at the sight even Toussaint’s delightful voice was forgotten. 

Taking a deep breath, he drew closer and walked slowly around the display so that he could take the whole thing in. He was almost unaware of Toussaint’s scrutiny of him while he took in all the fine details of the suit. In truth, he was caught up in imagining what it would look like on Harry and nearly startled when the other man cleared his throat and arched an eyebrow at Draco in a blatant display of amusement at his expense. Blushing hotly at being caught out, Draco jerked his eyes from Toussaint’s, to the suit, and back again before responding.

“It’s exquisite, Monsieur. It came out even better than I imagined. I couldn’t be more pleased.”

This was met with a dark chuckle as Toussaint circled him, giving both him and the suit an appraising glance before drifting over to the mannequin and launching into an explanation of how he’d brought the sketches they’d poured over to life. Draco listened with rapt attention, nodding and humming appreciative responses in all the right places. The man was a genius. The least Draco could do was pay court for a few minutes. Then with a calculating glint in his jet gaze, the tailor switched topics, catching Draco completely off guard yet again.

“Your young man will be perfection in it, mm? You would be wise to stop your dancing about and snatch him up before another does, I think.”

If there’d been any doubt that Draco was blushing before he was definitely doing so now. Even the tips of his ears glowed pink, and his voice was slightly strangled as he stumbled over a reply.

“He’s not _my_ anything. We’re not..I’m..I mean, you—”

Draco felt his breath catch in his throat, chest squeezing painfully tight as the image of someone else in Harry’s arms flashed across his mind before he squashed it back down with a vicious jab. Lips pressed firmly together to stave off anymore senseless jabbering, he looked over to meet Toussaint’s knowing expression. When the other man spoke again, the teasing lilt was gone, replaced with frank advice.

“Heed me, young Malfoy. Your,” and Toussaint held up a hand to forestall any protest, and Draco closed his mouth with a snap as the man continued, “Monsieur Potter is quite something. Worth this declaration, non?”

He gestured to the suit on the mannequin and awaited Draco’s response. The younger man swallowed, his shoulders slumping a bit as his gaze flickered to the suit and then back to Toussaint.

“How did you know it was for Ha..Potter?”

The tailor gave him a look that rivaled Snape’s best ‘you’re a dunderhead’ expression and tilted his head slightly, obviously of the opinion that the question didn’t even deserve a response.

Draco sighed and dutifully answered Toussaint’s instead.

“Yes, of course he is. I just..it’s Harry Potter. He’s the bloody Chosen One, Savior of us all. What would he want with the likes of me?”

Toussaint tsked at him and circled him once slowly, as if taking his measure. Finally, he spoke again, and this time it was as if he were issuing a challenge.

“Find your pride, Monsieur Malfoy, and perhaps a bit of that renowned Slytherin cunning, and I am quite sure you will manage.”

Blinking slowly, Draco stared at the other man wordlessly for what felt like several minutes but was likely only seconds of silent consideration before his chin went up and his shoulders went back, nostrils flaring as he (finally) rose to the occasion.

“Thank you for the advice and your excellent service, Monsieur. I shall endeavor to be worthy of both.”

And with that they proceeded to conclude their business. Toussaint had his employee pack the suit in a lovely garment bag that bore the logo of the shop and saw Draco to the door. Bidding both of them a good day, Draco bowed politely to them both and swept out into the clear afternoon, purchase in hand and expression newly determined. Harry might be the Savior of the Wizarding World, but Draco was a Malfoy and a Slytherin besides. He was proud and clever and quite used to having his way, and Potter wasn’t going to know what hit him.

~~~

The friend group, having decided as a collective that they’d exchange gifts on the 23rd of December since it was good for everyone and wouldn’t interfere with anyone’s family celebrations, all gathered at Malfoy Manor at noon for a casual lunch. That is, it would’ve been casual if not for the fact that it was _Malfoy_ hosting said lunch. They were all gathered in the dining room where an elaborate spread had been laid out on the long table, and everyone either sat or mingled with plates in hand as they saw fit.

Harry had opted for sitting and had settled himself on the side nearest the shepherd’s pie, of which he was currently enjoying a generous slice. Luna was sitting on his left and sharing details from her latest trip abroad to search for some obscure (and possibly imaginary, Harry was never quite sure) magical creature. He nodded along and made appreciative hums in all the right places to indicate he was listening while actually doing nothing of the sort. Instead he was brooding about whether or not Draco would actually like his gift. He’d been up half the night before worrying about just that and had nearly fire-called Hermione at two in the morning to beg her to say he was ill and couldn’t make it.

Eventually he’d convinced himself he was being ridiculous and had managed to fall asleep. His alarm had jogged him awake with barely enough time to make himself semi presentable before he’d grabbed the present he’d spent a painstaking amount of time wrapping so carefully even Ron and Hermione would have had a hard time believing it had been Harry who’d managed something so neatly done and high-tailed it out the door. And that was how he found himself here, in Malfoy’s ridiculously huge house, eating delicious food that had no doubt been provided by an army of house elves, and fretting over when lunch would be over and everyone would make their way into the festively decorated parlor to open the presents they’d set under the massive Christmas tree.

He snuck a glance across the room to where Draco (the ponce) was holding court, his plate held forgotten in one hand while he gestured airily with the other and proceeded to tell Blaise and Hermione something that had Blaise laughing and Hermione nodding with a small amused smile that she tried to hide by taking a sip of her punch. 

Ron had apparently escaped this lecture and chose that moment to plop himself down on Harry’s other side and start loading his plate with an assortment of small mince pies. Grinning hugely at such a windfall, he startled Harry right out of his musing and interrupted Luna mid-story to exclaim,

“Malfoy might still be a git, but he sure knows how to throw a party, eh Harry? Oi, Luna! How was the trip?”

She gave him a rather bemused smile before answering that it had been quite lovely, thank you and contented herself with her butternut squash while Harry gave Ron an exasperated look and muttered lowly that he’d tell Hermione the next time his friend so thoughtlessly inserted himself into a conversation, never mind the fact that Harry had barely been following it not two seconds prior. Nobody needed to know that part, he reasoned with himself. Ron gave him a wounded look.

“That’s out of order, mate. Threatening a bloke with his wife—”

At Harry’s renewed glower, Ron hastily broke off and turned back to Luna.

“Upon further reflection, Harry’s right of course. Sorry about that Luna. Rude of me. What were you saying? Something about Humdinger..whats-its?” 

Luna graced Ron with a warm smile and nodded, picking up the thread of her story as if nothing untoward had occurred. Ron listened attentively while stuffing his face with his mince pies, and Harry forced himself to focus on Luna as well. He wasn’t sure quite how much time had passed, but before long his plate was empty. The three of them had moved on to discuss how each of their respective careers was going, and Harry was trying to steer it more toward Ron and Luna since how he felt about his own time in the Auror Corps wasn’t something he was really keen on discussing just then. Thankfully he was granted a reprieve in the form of Malfoy calling for everyone’s attention and suggesting they move on into the parlor for the main event.

With a sigh, Harry got to his feet and shuffled along after Luna and Ron as the rest of their friends made their way into the next room. Easing along the wall once he’d slipped through the door, Harry was angling for one of the armchairs near the fire. Much to his dismay, however, he was waylaid by Pansy. She looped her arm through his and made a great show of leading him over to an elegant settee as she grinned, almost shark-like, and yanked him down beside her while managing to make the motion look graceful and entirely like she hadn’t just strong-armed him into sitting with her against his will. He was just about to ask her what she thought she was up to when Hermione’s voice cut across the low hum of conversation from her place on the sofa between Ron and Millie.

“Now that we’re all settled, why don’t you do the honors, Draco?”

She gestured to the presents under the tree and flashed Draco a smile Harry swore was almost mischievous, but he was distracted by Malfoy’s put upon sigh and dramatic flounce as he got up from his chair and moved to do as she bid him, complaining all the while, naturally.

“Is it not enough that I opened my home to you lot, provided a fabulous luncheon, and graced everyone with my company? No, I’m to play Santa’s little helper as well because apparently no one else is capable of reading labels on packages!”

Pansy cackled from her spot next to Harry and piped up just as Draco made it to the tree and leaned down to grab the first present, muttering under his breath all the while,

“Well we wouldn’t dream of denying you the chance to whinge about it, darling. All the while you get to be the center of attention, of course!”

Harry was positive he heard the word “cow” among Draco’s grumbling as he passed them without so much as a glance toward Pansy when their prickly host handed off the first gift to a chortling Blaise. As was tradition, they waited for each person to open their gift and let everyone see what it was and offer comments before moving on to the next one. After Blaise’s much admired pocket watch, it was onto Neville, who got a very nice pair of dragon hide gloves that were spelled with enchantments designed to protect him from some of the nastier magical plants he worked with in the greenhouses at Hogwarts, having taken over for Professor Sprout when she’d retired the year before. 

After that it was Ron, who was quite chuffed to open a quaffle signed by his favorite Keeper from the Chudley Cannons, and then it was Pansy’s turn to make a rather large show of how pleased she was with her advance copy of “Jeunes Génies de La Mode”, which she was featured in for her rather explosive career as an interior designer for the rich and famous. Harry had made enthusiastic comments for each and had laughed particularly hard when Ginny made a clever quip about Neville maybe keeping all of his fingers now that he had those gloves, but as each present was opened and the pile grew smaller and smaller he grew more anxious for the moment that they would all be gone and Draco would get to his own gift. It was _also_ tradition for the person passing them out to go last.

He was knocked out of his feverish musing by a familiar drawl that was even more drawn out than usual and tinged with more than a little annoyance.

“Potter, care to rejoin us in the present? I’ve only been standing here holding this out to you for the last little bit of forever. Don’t mind me. I have all day.”

Harry could feel the tips of his ears going hot with embarrassment as he accepted the box from Malfoy with a mumbled apology. Eyes rolling heavenward, the other man stalked back to his chair and flopped down for a break while Harry opened his gift. Tearing off the wrapping paper, Harry opened the box and stared down at the carefully folded garments inside. Hermione gave a little gasp and demanded Harry angle the box out for them all to see better, but what happened next was all Blaise’s fault when he chimed in with a gleeful suggestion that Harry should try them on.

“Come on, Harry. Give us a little fashion show, why don’t you? I’m sure your benefactor would want to know that his or her gift fits, hm?”

Despite his vehement protests to the contrary, he was herded into an empty room down the hall by both Ginny and Hermione, who stood guard to make sure he wasn't walked in on and also that he complied with their demands. A few minutes later (accompanied by some muffled cursing on Harry’s part and a quiet threat or two on Hermione’s), all three of them were making their way back into the parlor where every head swiveled to stare as Ginny practically skipped back in, grinning madly as she reclaimed her seat. There was a low, heated exchange just beyond the door, and then Harry stumbled into the room, obviously having been propelled by Hermione’s shove from behind.

Draco’s eyes widened before he could school his expression to one of practiced vacancy, and his mouth went dry at the sight of Harry in the suit he’d had made especially for him. The fit was perfect, not that he’d doubted Toussaint’s abilities for a second. One could’ve heard a pin drop in the room, so silent was it as everyone took in the view. Predictably it was Blaise who broke it with an impressive wolf-whistle and a slow clap that the rest of their wretched friends took up with an accompaniment of scattered laughs and a couple of cheers.

Biting back a growl of frustration, he allowed his gaze to roam over the other man as Harry gave a bashful grin at something Longbottom was saying. Draco had to dig his nails into the cushion of his chair to keep himself from leaping up and crossing the room to strangle the plant-loving oaf. Potter was _his_ damn it, and he had miscalculated quite badly by allowing anyone else to see him looking like sin on legs in that bloody suit!

Unbeknownst to him caught up in his fit of pique as he was, both Pansy and Hermione had appraised his reaction and shared a knowing look before giving each other the smallest of nods. Pansy then rose gracefully and took Harry in hand, even going so far as to make him do a little walk about so everyone could see him in his finery from all angles before ferrying him back to their settee and settling back down though Harry protested this with a weakly voiced,

“But I was just going to change back into my—”

Unfortunately for him she was having none of it and interrupted him mid-sentence.

“Nonsense, darling. Everyone else can enjoy seeing you in something nice for a change at least as long as it takes to open the rest of the gifts. Besides, you wouldn’t want to hold up the proceedings now would you? Of course not.”

Her attention shifted to Draco seamlessly, and she waved for him imperiously.

“Do continue, little helper. Though I can’t imagine what could top this one this year, hm?”

Draco was going to kill her. Just as soon as he could figure out a way to do that without anyone finding out it was him, that was. Eyes narrowed dangerously, he jerked to his feet and practically stalked over to the tree and picked up the next gift, and the torture continued through Millie unwrapping some sort of contraption involving her beloved cat, Hermione’s rare first-edition of a book no one else in the room had likely ever heard of, let alone read, ad nauseam until there was only one present left underneath the tree. Picking it up he paused to admire the rather elegant job whoever had gotten him had done wrapping it before making his way back to his chair and settling in to open it.

Meticulous as always, Draco undid the bow and slowly peeled the spellotape loose so as not to rip the paper. That he folded and set aside neatly before opening the box that took up most of his lap and was balanced carefully on his knees. Folding back the tissue paper that had been tucked over top of whatever was inside, he looked down to see.. _himself_. It was a picture..no, a drawing, and a rather good one at that. The gift giver had even had it matted and framed, but Draco barely registered this as he was so caught up watching himself throw back his head and laugh.

He remembered the night depicted in the drawing vividly. The whole gang had been out together at a bar for one of their infrequent pub nights, and at that particular moment Draco had been just a little bit tipsy and feeling carefree. Blaise had been telling everyone a rather salacious story about a former paramour, and the artist had apparently been inspired by Draco’s amusement. The level of detail was actually quite impressive, and his eyes kept getting caught on little things like the objects scattered across the table or the curve of Hermione’s cheekbones, as she’d been sitting to his left and was also in the drawing as a result.

It was quite clear, however, that Draco was the center of the whole thing, the focus, and he didn’t know _how_ but of one thing he was very certain. Whoever had drawn this _saw him_ , saw him so clearly that it took his breath away. Pansy jerked him out of his reverie by demanding to know what was in the bloody box already, and he blinked up at her, for once completely at a loss for words. Soundlessly he lifted the picture out of the box and turned it about so everyone could see.

Amazement was the general reaction as everyone got a glimpse. Ron’s mouth fell open in shock, and Hermione went so far as to get up and cross the room to examine the drawing more closely. Her expression was pensive, and Draco finally had the wherewithal to notice. She knew who it was. He’d bet all the gold in his Gringotts vault.

“This is lovely. I wonder if they had it commissioned.”

Hermione went to take the frame in hand to get a closer look to see if there was a signature on the drawing anywhere, and Draco’s grip tightened reflexively for a moment before he forced himself to let her have it. It was _his_ , part of him screamed, but he shoved the voice to the back of his mind desperately before anymore of it could show in his face or in his actions. There was no signature, however, and Hermione tutted in disappointment before ferrying the picture across the room for everyone clamoring for a closer look to take turns examining it themselves.

Draco huffed and fussed with the tissue paper lining the box before he forced himself to stop fidgeting and instead focused his attention on each of their friends to see if anyone was acting suspiciously. He wanted..no he _needed_ to know who’d done it. Who had drawn him like that? Given him something so achingly personal? His gaze paused on Potter. Could it possibly be..? No, no, Draco was being foolish. It wasn’t possible. Harry was a terrible liar. There was no way he could keep something like that a secret for any length of time. But still…

Harry swallowed reflexively as he watched Draco unwrap his gift. It was taking everything he had to keep the anxiety off of his face, and he was able to relax marginally when he saw how stunned the other man looked. So he wasn’t offended. That was good. Harry made an approximation of the same wondering noises everyone else was making as the picture was revealed to the room at large, but meanwhile he was keeping a sharp watch on Draco out of the corner of his eye. He might’ve been the only one in the room to catch the hesitance before he gave up his grip on the picture as Hermione took it from him.

He failed to notice, however, that he wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping Draco set to Malfoy in his head. It was far too late for it to matter at that point, anyway. When he felt the other man’s eyes on him he schooled his face to one of polite interest as he took his turn looking over the drawing before passing it to Pansy, who made a great show of wondering who the artist could be.

“I didn’t know any of us could draw. Did any of you? The wait for the reveal is going to be excruciating!”

She nudged Harry in the ribs with her elbow, and he winced and shot her a dirty look as he rubbed the spot. Ignoring this in favor of continuing, she went on in her usual unapologetic fashion,

“Potter, you better not skimp on the good stuff. You’re hosting New Year’s Eve. I have a feeling we’re going to need more than butterbeers and lager this year.”

With a beleaguered sigh, Harry assured her that he would make sure he’d stocked his liquor cabinet to her approval and missed the return of the picture to Draco’s hands. He glanced over just in time to catch him looking at him, however, and he could only pray that he wasn’t blushing. He shifted nervously before he caught himself mid-motion, and he saw the other man’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. Shit. Harry was doomed.

But Draco didn’t make any move to accuse Harry of anything. In fact, he barely acknowledged Harry for the rest of the visit. Flummoxed, Harry finally managed to slink off and change back into his casual clothes once everyone was settled into conversations speculating who’d gotten who and how the annual reveal would go at their also traditional New Year’s Eve gathering. He wasn’t especially nervous about hosting. He had plenty of room, after all, but he _was_ more than a bit worried about the reveal, for obvious reasons. 

When he made it back to the parlor everyone was slowly gathering their things and making their goodbyes, so he joined in and barely got a chance to thank Draco for hosting before he was swept off by Hermione and Ron as they made for the nearest apparition point. They had to pick up their daughter Rose from the Burrow, and he had decided to apparate with his fine new suit tucked into its box under his arm rather than risk an incident going home by floo. He’d never managed to be graceful coming out of it, no matter that he’d been doing it for twelve years now. Some things never changed.

~~~

It was nearing midnight, and Draco was still awake. He’d meant to turn in early, as his mother would be expecting him for brunch the next day and his portkey was set to leave at something god awful like nine in the morning. He understood why she preferred to spend the holidays on the Continent, he really did. It was too hard for her at the Manor without his father, all the memories. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, slumping back in his chair.

Sometimes he thought he should join her for the whole stretch, but he’d miss his friends, his work. Granted, he didn’t strictly _need_ to work for a living, but he was damn good at potions and had worked his ass off to secure both his mastery and what contracts he had now. He wasn’t giving that up. It gave him a sense of purpose, helped him cope when strangers even still looked at him with contempt. At least he had his mind, and his work, and his friends. That was enough. It had to be.

But there were nights when he imagined more, and it looked like this was going to be one of them. His gaze drifted around the room until it snagged on the box resting open on the coffee table in front of him. Sitting up suddenly, he reached out and lifted his present from the gift exchange earlier out of the nest of tissue paper and looked down at it, mind whirring despite his fatigue. He couldn’t let it go, the question of who the artist was. He’d been trying to ignore it, but it kept creeping back up on him when he wasn’t vigilant. 

He smiled a little as he thought back to that night in the bar again. Blaise’s stupid hi-jinks, Hermione’s laugh, Luna’s dreamy smile across the table. He blinked, then paused, the smile sliding off his face to be replaced by a furrowed brow and a bit of a frown as the thought took over. Where had everyone been right at that moment, the one in the drawing? Hermione was beside him, Ron next to her. Blaise and Pansy next, Luna and Ginny across. The table had been a booth that curved and managed to seat nearly all of them in a go, but just then Neville was missing. In the loo, Draco thought. And Potter. _Where_ had Potter been?

He’d been sat beside Draco that night. Draco remembered that quite clearly because Pansy had taken the piss at both of them when she’d made a rush to push Harry down next to him and then encouraged everyone else to take up the rest of the space so they couldn’t rearrange themselves. The bint. He’d been wound tighter than a drum for the first hour with the hot line of Potter’s thigh pressing against his in the booth, but eventually he’d gotten a bit of liquor in him and had loosened up and even considered thanking her for it later.

Shaking his head to clear it, he went back to his former train of thought. So Potter definitely hadn’t just been at the next booth with Millie, Theo, Dean, Seamus, and the rest of that lot. No, so where..? Ah! Draco’s eyes lit up. That was it. Drinks! It had been Potter’s turn to get the next round, so he must’ve been at the bar while Blaise was telling his story. Yes, he even thought he vaguely remembered the other man asking what was so funny as he slid back into the booth…

Draco’s head snapped up as the realization came to him. It was Potter. He must’ve been watching as he came back from the bar. _Harry_ had drawn this, had drawn _Draco_ , had captured him in a moment of joy, and then gifted it to him knowing that eventually he’d be revealed. It was so..so Gryffindor of him. Draco swallowed and stood, gaze stuck on the picture for a moment before he gently placed it back in the box and darted to his room for a coat. He didn’t care what bloody time it was. If Harry wasn’t awake he was about to be. 

Shoving his arms in the sleeves, he barely took the time to glance at his appearance in his stand mirror before turning abruptly on the spot and vanishing with a pop. Reappearing on the top step of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Draco caught his balance and took a deep breath before lifting the ancient looking knocker and rapping it sharply against the door several times before letting it fall and hugging himself against the cold that bit into him while he waited for a response.

He let perhaps two minutes at most pass before lifting his hand to do so again when the motion was interrupted midway by the door jerking open and a rumpled looking Harry Potter blinked out at him owlishly.

“M-Malfoy? What is it? It’s the middle of the night. What are you—”

Draco cut him off abruptly by squeezing in past him with a huffed out exclamation.

“Potter, it’s bloody cold out here! Let me in already, or do you make a habit of having your guests hang about in the doorway? Honestly..”

He let his tirade trail off as Harry just gaped at him for a moment before shutting the door and then shifted from foot to foot nervously, seemingly at a loss for what to do with his uninvited house guest. Some slumbering instinct must’ve kicked in after a moment because Harry suddenly reached out and gestured toward Draco with one hand.

“Right..uh, can I take your coat? I was about to make some tea if you’d like a cuppa, maybe?”

A smirk curved Draco’s lips as he shrugged out of his coat and handed it over, watching as Harry hung it on a coat rack just by the door before heading deeper into the house and toward the kitchen. He answered in the affirmative and followed the other man at a leisurely pace. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here, but it _was_ the first time without any of the rest of their friends along. When they got to the kitchen, Draco settled himself at a stool behind the island and watched Harry move about, putting the kettle on and getting out cups and saucers almost in a daze.

He considered breaking the silence, but he was rather enjoying watching the other man just then, not to mention if he spoke he might have to admit what he was doing there. Now that he was sitting here ensconced in Harry’s kitchen his initial daring, which had carried him through the rush of arriving on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place at an ungodly hour, had deserted him. Instead Draco admired the broad sweep of Harry’s shoulders and the way his sides tapered to slim hips that shifted as he moved about preparing the tea. It hadn’t escaped Draco’s notice that Harry was clad in nothing but a thin t-shirt and worn joggers, and if he indulged in the opportunity to appreciate the way the fabric molded to the tight curves of Harry’s arse, well..surely he couldn’t be blamed, could he? Unfortunately this meant he _did_ miss the fact that Harry was speaking to him.

“—biscuits?”

Draco blinked and jerked to attention as Harry turned around and looked at him oddly before repeating his question.

“I said, do you want biscuits, too? I have chocolate and plain shortbread ones, so pick your poison.”

He could feel the blush heating his cheeks and knew that Harry would see. There was no way to miss it with his coloring, and not for the first time Draco lamented his own pale complexion for betraying him.

“I’ll take chocolate, like anyone with sense, thank you. Who eats plain shortbread biscuits?”

He made a face, as if the very thought was offensive. Harry scowled at him but pulled out the box of chocolate ones anyway and arranged them on a plate, which he set down in front of Draco before turning away to take the kettle off the heat and pour as he answered.

“They’re Hermione’s favorite I’ll have you know. There’s nothing wrong with shortbread. You’re such a snob, Malfoy.”

Draco plucked a biscuit from the plate and pointed it at Harry for emphasis as he lifted his chin a notch and adopted an exaggerated version of his usual drawl.

“Quite. And don’t you forget it, Potter.”

With that he took a bite out of the biscuit and chewed slowly before swallowing with a moan of appreciation. They were very good biscuits. Trust Potter not to skimp on the sweets. There was a clatter as Harry nearly toppled the teacup he was spooning sugar into, and he glanced hastily over at Draco with slightly wide eyes before returning to what he’d been doing. Draco grinned wolfishly, a bit of confidence flooding back through him at the unexpected reaction from the other man. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

He watched as Harry finished fussing with the teacups and turned toward him, placing one squarely in front of Draco before picking up his own and sipping slowly. Blinking down at the offering, Draco took the cup in hand and took an experimental sip. It was perfect, just enough sugar and a splash of milk.

“You remember how I take my tea?”

Draco’s tone was a bit incredulous, and Harry arched an eyebrow at him, stealing one of Draco’s own usual facial expressions in response. The other man’s tone was half exasperated, half amused.

“We’ve been friends for years. Of course I know how you like your tea. Wanna tell me why you’re here yet?”

Scowling in an attempt to mitigate his renewed blush, Draco huffed and took another gulp of tea. No, he most definitely did _not_ want to tell Harry why he was here. The wanker had the nerve to laugh at him, so why should he? Nevermind the fact that Harry wasn’t actually laughing, and that his brief hint of amusement was quickly giving way to a helpless sort of confusion that Draco found incredibly endearing. And damn it if he wasn’t right back to sneaking glances at him between sips of his tea while pretending to be offended. This was not going how Draco had pictured at all.

“I was thinking and wanted your opinion on something.”

Harry looked at him like he thought Draco had completely lost the plot.

“You want my opinion on something that required you to show up at my house at midnight the day before Christmas Eve? Malfoy, what’s going on? Are you in trouble? Do you need help?”

The concern in Harry’s voice warmed him from the inside out, banishing the rest of Draco’s irritation. He replaced his cup on its saucer and favored Harry with a fond look. The other man couldn’t fail to notice, and suddenly it was Harry’s turn to blush. Draco decided the time for playing coy was past. He might not have a Gryffindor’s courage, but he had Slytherin ambition in spades. When he wanted something he went after it with a single-minded focus that worked just as well.

“It couldn’t wait, no, but I’m not in trouble. Relax, Potter. I’m here because of my Secret Santa present. Care to wager as to why that is?”

Harry looked startled, then guilty, and then a bit panicked in quick succession. He was looking anywhere but at Draco as he clutched his teacup in both hands, holding it close to his chest as if it might somehow rescue him from this conversation. It was obvious that he thought he’d have more time before this confrontation and was caught rather flat-footed. His voice was a touch higher than usual as he choked out a reply.

“Your present? No, I can’t..I mean I don’t… Umm, do you want more tea?” 

Draco got up and stalked around the island, gaze fixed on Harry as he boxed him in with a determined air, placing himself squarely in front of the other man so he was trapped between Draco and the counter behind him. Plucking the teacup from Harry’s grip, he placed it haphazardly to one side and answered with a huff of impatience.

“No, I do not want more tea. Merlin, Potter, will you stop being so bloody difficult? It was _you._ I know it was, so stop playing coy because you’re abysmal at it.”

At that Harry’s head came up, nostrils flaring as he leaned into Draco’s space a bit, green eyes meeting gray evenly. He’d never been good at resisting the other man’s taunts, and this placed him squarely back into his comfort zone as he rose to the occasion at last.

“Well it was beyond obvious you got me! Who else would dress me up like that? You’re such a posh wanker, do you know that? And _I’m_ being difficult? That’s rich coming from you!”

Draco glared at him hotly for a moment before muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘sod this!’ Fisting a hand in Harry’s t-shirt, he yanked him forward, head dipping slightly so he could press his lips to Harry’s. It took only the space between one breath and the next before Harry was kissing him back, giving as good as he got. Harry was the first to come up for air, but he was back on Draco in a flash, even going so far as to grasp his hips and flip them so that he had Draco flush against the cabinets. The lip of the counter was digging into the small of his back, but Draco couldn’t be arsed to care with the way Harry’s tongue was currently halfway down his throat.

He couldn’t suppress the needy whimper that escaped him when Harry wedged a thigh in between both of his and began to rock Draco against him with an encouraging squeeze from the hands grasping Draco’s hips. Harry broke the kiss to nuzzle along the line of Draco’s jaw until he reached his ear. Teeth nipped at his earlobe lightly, and Draco gasped, a shudder going through him as he clung to the other man, mind whirling at how quickly things had progressed. Not that he was complaining, mind. He was already painfully hard from just a bit of kissing, but he wasn’t too terribly embarrassed by it when he could feel the evidence of Harry’s reciprocal desire digging into his hip as the other man murmured into his ear, voice husky with need.

“If I knew this would’ve shut you up so easily I would’ve done it ages ago.”

Harry then silenced Draco’s resulting squawk of indignation by kissing him again, this time open-mouthed and filthy, and it was all Draco could do to not slide bonelessly to the floor. By the end of it he was sure the only thing keeping him on his feet was the firm pressure of Harry’s hands, which had slipped backward to cup his arse and draw him even closer as Draco shamelessly rode his thigh, a high, mewling noise escaping him in the process. Harry might’ve been full of quips about shutting Draco up, but he was the one that kept up a running commentary when his mouth wasn’t otherwise engaged.

“God, do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? You drive me mad, Draco. Fuck! The sounds you make.. I could do this all night long.”

Harsh panting, Harry’s tongue laving at his pulse point, his hands roaming over every part of Draco he could reach, but one thing slowly registered in his mind, allowing him to focus just enough to articulate a thought.

“You called me Draco..”

Harry chuckled darkly, amusement dancing in his eyes as he rolled his hips against Draco’s, hands kneading the small of his back as he held him steady.

“I figured it was welcome what with you kissing me and all. Should I apologize?”

Draco shook his head frantically, one hand lifting to thread his fingers through Harry’s hair and tug him into another deep, lingering kiss before he broke it off to continue in a hoarse voice,

“No, I like it. I like..everything you’re doing. More of it, please, and preferably horizontally sometime in the near future if you would be so kind.”

Harry pulled back a bit both to catch his breath and to consider his next course of action. He searched Draco’s face for a moment before seeming to come to a decision and squaring his shoulders. Feeling the mood shift from playful to serious, he braced himself for whatever Harry was about to say.

“Draco..are you sure this isn’t too fast? I want it. Don’t misunderstand me. I’ve wanted you for ages, but that..this isn’t…”

Harry chewed his lower lip as he tried to backtrack, wanting to make his meaning clear. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, tone softening toward the end.

“I don’t just want to take you to bed. It’s more than that. I want..I want everything with you, Draco. I’m all in. You’re it for me. You always have been, really. Just took me awhile to get there, is all. What do you think?”

Draco swallowed convulsively, his gaze locked with Harry’s as he took this in. When he managed a reply, it was a harsh whisper, the hand in Harry’s hair tightening as he drew him close.

“Sweet Circe, you don’t do anything by halves, do you? Fine. _Fine!_ We’re doing this. Okay.”

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing,

“I’m in love with you, you great oaf, so yes, of course it’s more. And I knew all that already. Did you think I imagined just anyone could give me that sort of present and not have it _mean something?_ You’re so bloody sentimental the Hat should’ve Sorted you Hufflepuff. Are you sure it wasn’t confused? Can one Confund a magical artifact? Hmm..”

Harry growled and gave Draco’s hips a squeeze, shifting so that he pressed against the blonde in a hot, slow glide that had Draco moaning and forgetting his train of thought.

“Draco?”

He blinked and stared at Harry blankly, finally managing a weak, “Yes, Harry?”

“Shut up.”

So saying, Harry pulled him into another deep, lingering kiss. They continued on in this fashion until they were both breathless and at the end of their patience with the limited options being pressed up against the kitchen counter presented them, so Harry laced his fingers with Draco’s and led him back down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom. Pushing open the door, he scratched the back of his neck in a nervous gesture and stammered out an apology for the mess.

Draco rolled his eyes and proceeded to toe off his shoes and peeled off his socks, next starting on the buttons of his dress shirt as he eyed Harry hungrily.

“You have on entirely too many clothes.”

Harry’s answering grin was so bright Draco almost had to look away but found the motion quite arrested when Harry yanked his t-shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His fingers fumbled on his buttons as he stared unabashedly at the flat planes of Harry’s chest and stomach. Dear Merlin, he was fit. He knew being an Auror kept one active, but it really wasn’t quite fair how attractive Harry was. The heated stare he got in return made his cheeks go pink as Harry sauntered up to him and took over undoing the rest of Draco’s buttons before pushing his shirt down and off his shoulders.

It crumpled to the floor in a forgotten heap as Harry kissed him and turned him about, steering him toward the bed ‘til the backs of his knees hit the mattress. Harry drew back then and looked at him carefully, hands settling on Draco’s belt buckle and pausing for permission. At Draco’s nod, he slid it out of its loops and then made short work of the fastenings on his trousers before shoving them and his pants halfway down his thighs in one go. Draco groaned and pushed at them, wiggling his way out the rest of the way and kicking them aside impatiently before sinking down onto the bed and sliding along until he could recline on the mound of pillows at the headboard. Pointing at Harry’s joggers, he ordered imperiously.

“Take those off, and get up here before I start without you.”

He reinforced the threat by palming his own length with a hissed inhale, loving the way Harry’s eyes devoured the motion as if it were the most enthralling thing he’d ever seen. In short order Harry was naked and crawling across the bed until he was atop Draco. Smacking Draco’s hand off his own cock, Harry kissed him hotly as he replaced it with his own, fingers curling in a loose fist around it and starting to pump it slowly. With a sound like he was dying, Draco arched up into the touch, fingers scrabbling on the sheets as he sought any kind of purchase. He broke the kiss to gasp for air before moving on to exploring the expanse of Harry’s neck with his lips and tongue.

Harry moaned raggedly when Draco’s teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot behind his left ear, and he muttered a continuous stream of commentary as one of Draco’s hands teased his hard cock in turn, nimble fingers rolling the foreskin down and using the pre-come beading there to slick the shaft before gripping it firmly and tugging to match Harry’s own quickening pulls on Draco’s length.

“Oh fuck, Draco! That’s so good. You’re so good. I..ohh, shit. God, don’t stop doing that. Jus-just..uhn, harder!”

And when Draco obliged him he shuddered, hips bucking in tandem with Draco’s own thrusts. Draco let out a little whine when Harry paused in his litany to kiss him hard, tongue mimicking the motion of their lower bodies. It was deep and wet and everything Draco’d ever imagined kissing Harry would be like, only a hundred times better than any fantasy because it was _real_. Harry broke off to nose along Draco’s hairline, murmuring nonsense and panting into his ear before taking the lobe into his mouth and sucking on it.

Sweat was trickling down Draco’s temples, and he was pretty sure that if Harry didn’t stop touching him he was going to come before things went any further than mutual hand jobs. Not that this wasn’t nice. Well, nice was an understatement. Draco felt like his brains were melting and leaking out of his ears if he were being honest, but he wanted more and he wanted it _right now_.

“Ha-arry.. I wan-want..oh sweet _Merlin!_ Fuck me, want you to fuck me, Harry. Please..”

His grip on Harry’s cock tightened briefly and then went slack as he fumbled over his request, and the other man released his earlobe with a wet pop before shifting so he could look Draco in the eye, his own fist slowing on Draco’s length but not stopping entirely as he replied.

“Are you sure, love? There’s no rush. We can—”

Draco’s insides felt like they’d caught fire at the sound of the endearment rolling off Harry’s tongue, and he shut the other man up by kissing him soundly before pulling back and nodding quickly.

“Yes, I’m sure, you pillock. Do you want me to beg?”

Harry’s eyes darkened, and he gave Draco such a wicked smile that a shudder of anticipation wracked his frame as Harry murmured to him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me working you over ‘til you were begging for my cock? Because I can make that happen..”

And before Draco had time to even get his bearings, Harry had shifted to the side and flipped Draco onto his stomach. When Draco gave him a slightly wild-eyed look over his shoulder, Harry chuckled and smoothed his hands down Draco’s sides, fingers making soothing little circles as they drifted further down.

“Trust me?”

Taking a few steadying breaths, Draco nodded and relaxed into the mattress, obeying Harry’s silent request to lift up onto his knees and spread them wide so that his backside was conveniently placed for whatever Harry had in mind. It didn’t take long for him to find out what that was when he felt Harry’s breath ghosting along his lower back and his hands moving to cup and knead his arse cheeks before spreading them open. A pause, and he felt the tickle of a wordless, wandless cleaning spell inside him. The casual display of power left him a bit breathless, and that was all the invitation Harry needed to lean down and bury his face between Draco’s cheeks, tongue licking a wide swathe along his crack.

Draco gave a deep-throated moan as Harry set to with a great deal of enthusiasm and an equal amount of skill. It wasn’t long before he was writhing in place, hands clenching into fists as his legs started to shake. Harry gave a pleased rumble before nibbling lightly at Draco’s rim and flicking his tongue across the sensitive flesh there. Harry then brought his tongue to a point and drove it into Draco’s hole, which caused Draco to howl and utter a string of curses in quick succession as he canted his hips back and tried to take Harry deeper. Harry groaned and pressed even closer, hands caressing the globes of Draco’s arse as he continued to thrust his tongue in and out in a steady rhythm. 

Pressing his forehead into his arm, Draco keened and shuddered under Harry’s ministrations. He was slowly coming unraveled, and Harry was enjoying every minute of Draco’s mounting desperation. His hips moved mindlessly, eager for any sort of friction on his aching cock and finding none. It was that that finally broke him, and his breath coming in sobs he spoke, voice muffled with his head buried in his arms as it was.

“More..for f-fuck’s sake, Harry. I ne..need more. _Ahh_ , gods, please. Harry, please!”

Harry removed his tongue slowly and blew a teasing stream of air across Draco’s hole, which was now wet and fluttering madly as he continued to buck his hips in tiny aborted thrusts that brought him no real relief, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

“What’s that, love? You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Draco’s head came up at that, and he glared at Harry fiercely over his shoulder. But he still choked out an answer when Harry merely smiled and raised his eyebrows at him.

“Potter, if you don’t put your cock in my arse now I’ll hex your bollocks off. Specific enough for you?”

Harry’s laugh rang out, bubbling up from deep in his chest, but he wordlessly summoned a jar of lube and caught it easily when it came soaring out of his night table drawer. Coating one hand with lube, he worked first one, then two fingers into Draco in quick succession and started pistoning them in and out, occasionally scissoring them gently to open Draco further. Draco was already fairly relaxed from the rimming, and it wasn’t long before he was demanding that Harry stop being such a priss and give it to him already, all the while pushing back eagerly when Harry added a third finger. 

“I knew you’d be bossy.”

Draco huffed and tossed his hair out of his face as he said airily,

“Shut up. You love it.”

Grinning mischievously, Harry bit Draco lightly on one arse cheek only hard enough to leave the lightest impression of his teeth. When Draco’s hips stuttered and a guttural moan slipped past his lips, Harry laughed again and carefully withdrew his fingers as he replied.

“I really do. How do you want it, love?”

Draco grumbled a little at the loss of Harry’s fingers inside him but was quick to respond as he flipped onto his back and reached for the other man to tug him closer.

“Like this, facing me. I.. I want to see you.”

He bit his lip, voice wavering just slightly at the end, feeling a bit vulnerable with the admission. Harry’s expression softened at the tone, and he reached out with his clean hand, cupping Draco’s chin and tilting his face up so he could press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful, Draco. I see you, remember? I’ve always seen you.”

Draco pulled Harry closer at that, kissing him fiercely, and for a few minutes they got lost in exploring each other’s mouths. When they finally came up for air, Harry smiled down at him and grabbed a pillow from the pile behind Draco, tapping one of his hips with a fingertip in a wordless command for him to lift up. Draco complied and let Harry stuff it beneath him to aid in their next endeavor while Draco spread his legs and brought his knees up to his chest. He inhaled sharply when Harry scooted toward him on his knees, and he felt the hard length of him pressing against his arse. 

For his part, Harry groaned in anticipation and rooted around for where he’d discarded the jar of lube on the bed, squirting some into his hand and coating himself with it before positioning himself at Draco’s hole. Locking eyes with him in silent question, Draco growled at him to get on with it, and Harry smiled again at the other man’s impatience before slowly pressing forward, the head of his cock breaching Draco and sliding home in a slow, steady glide. He paused when he’d bottomed out, his pelvis flush against Draco’s backside, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion. Draco took measured breaths and forced himself to relax, eyes rolling shut as his head fell back at the flex and burn of it. He liked it, though, and it wasn’t long before he was wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist and demanding that he move.

One corner of his mouth curled up in a fond grin, Harry obeyed and eased out a little before rocking himself back in. He set a slow, deep rhythm that had Draco arching up to meet him, a needy whine building in the back of his throat. When the blonde was clawing at his back and hissing at him to go _harderfaster **more, goddamnyou**_ , Harry knew the time for teasing was over, and he pulled out ‘til only the head of him was left inside and then snapped his hips forward, driving himself into Draco in a new punishing pace. He reached between their straining bodies and wrapped his still lube-slick hand around Draco’s cock, wanking him in time to his own thrusts.

Harry could feel himself getting close, and he growled as he canted his hips at a slightly different angle and drove forward again, searching..searching. There! Draco screamed his name, followed closely by several choice expletives as Harry’s cock found his prostate, and he proceeded to keep up a steady assault on that spot, coupled with the quickening pulls of his hand on Draco’s cock. He could tell by the desperation on Draco’s face and the way his body was beginning to tense that he was almost there, and he just needed that little bit extra to push him over the edge.

“Come on, baby..come f-for me. I want to see it, Draco.. Oh, _fuck!_ You’re so..ah, so good for me. Let go, I wa-want to see it…”

And that was all it took to send Draco spiraling over the edge. He came with a hoarse cry, spilling himself between them in hot, wet splashes that coated Harry’s hand and both their stomachs. That and the feel of Draco clenching around him tipped Harry over into his own orgasm, and he leaned in, biting down on Draco’s shoulder to muffle his groans as his body jerked once, twice, three times before he sagged against him, just barely managing to catch himself on his elbows before he squished Draco beneath his dead weight.

Draco stroked his back slowly as they both came down from their respective highs, and Harry pressed lazy kisses against skin everywhere he could reach until he had enough wherewithal to ease his softening cock out of the other man and gently let his legs back down from where Harry’d had him nearly folded in half. Harry shifted onto his side and pulled Draco flush against him so they were chest to chest. Kissing languidly, they just bathed in the afterglow, sharing soft touches and looks that required no words at all to be understood in the moment.

After a while Draco made a face and complained about the mess, and Harry laughed as he cast a cleaning charm and then settled them both under the covers, nosing at Draco’s hairline before placing a tender kiss to his temple.

“You’ll stay, won’t you?” Harry mumbled in a sleepy tone as he attempted to pull Draco even closer and tucked his head under the other man’s chin with a contented sigh. Draco glanced down at him with an indulgent smile and carded his fingers through Harry’s hair and whispered to him as sleep began to steal over the other man.

“Always, Harry. I’m afraid you’re rather stuck with me now.”

Draco was almost positive that Harry hadn’t heard him at that point, but he just laughed softly to himself and clung tighter to him as his own eyes started to drift shut. So it surprised him to hear a response that was nothing but the barest rumble in his ear right before sleep claimed him.

“Good to know, love. Good to know.”


End file.
